


Christmas Confessions

by olivejuice28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Confessions, Dating, EWE, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, HEA, Pining, Post-Hogwarts, The Grinch - Freeform, gift-giving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27978525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: Draco allows the spirit of the holidays to push him out of his comfort zone.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 91





	Christmas Confessions

It had been an exhausting day, but a thoroughly enjoyable one at that. They’d met at their favorite coffee shop before most other businesses had even opened, and after two cups apiece and more pastries than either would admit to scarfing down, they’d set out. The plan was to tackle their Christmas shopping lists and get as much done as possible since it was the first weekend of December and life would only get busier as the holiday approached.

Draco’s list was short - just his mother, Andromeda, and seven year old Teddy. Of course Hermione was on that list but he’d honestly already done quite a bit of shopping for his favorite witch. For weeks now, he’d picked up random things as he came across them: things that reminded him of her (which was basically everything), things he thought she’d like (he was surprised how varied her tastes and interests and hobbies really were), and even things he knew she’d never pick for herself, but that he couldn’t resist getting (who wouldn’t love a tiny, self-watering houseplant). He knew she’d probably have a fit over how much he’d amassed, but he didn’t care.

Hermione’s list, on the other hand, was extensive, to say the least. Obviously the entire Weasley clan, those attached to it by marriage or dating relationships, and the children produced by such connections, were automatically included. A handful of friends, coworkers, neighbors, and an assortment of others were also part of it, and her parents rounded out the whole lot. She had told him once that gift-giving was her strongest love language, and though he hadn’t understood what she meant at the time, he had grown to recognize it and appreciate it in action. It was clear that those closest to her heart were never far from her mind and she often sent small notes or thoughtful items whenever she could. It was so easy for her – sharing herself with others – effortless, even. It was one of the many, many things he admired about her and sought to emulate in his own life, even if it was in a stilted, awkward, emotionally constipated sort of way.

As a result, he found himself trundling along beside her through the bustling sidewalks and crowded stores in both Muggle and Magical portions of London. He wasn’t normally fond of shopping, and typically avoided public settings for anything more than absolutely necessary errands, but he barely registered his fellow shoppers, even the ones who openly gawked at him in Diagon. He was wholly captivated by the petite witch at his side; her sparkling brown eyes, her musical laugh, her contagious joy when she found the perfect gift, her genuine sweetness towards everyone she interacted with. With a firm grasp on his gloved hand, she tugged him along wherever she deemed important, and he happily followed without a care.

They’d been together - officially - for about six months and Draco still wondered if some cosmic mistake had occurred. It all started quite by happenstance, with both of them arriving at the same time for a meeting with Minister Shacklebolt, who’s secretary had accidentally double-booked his afternoon. To make it even more ridiculous, the man wasn’t even in the office that day, but at a conference in Portugal that had been scheduled for almost a year. Feeling mildly irritated, Hermione had groused that she’d skipped lunch in order to finish a proposal she wanted to show Kingsley, and Draco suggested they go grab a bite to eat, even though it was nearing half-past three and he’d actually eaten several hours before. For some reason, the words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he braced for her polite but expected refusal, when she threw him for a loop and accepted.

He’d led her to a small cafe down the street and they chatted amicably enough over hearty soup and crusty bread, but the longer he sat there, the deeper he was drawn into the bottomless pool that was Hermione Granger’s brilliance and wit, compassion and kindness. Her stories were captivating, her ideas clever and thought-provoking, and in no time at all he realized he didn’t want this to be a one off. He wanted to spend hours, days even, learning about her and basking in the light that seemed to glow from within her petite frame.

They sat at that table past the typical hour-long break most employees take for lunch, and even beyond the closing work bell. As the dinner crowd started to fill the previously empty tables, she asked quite shyly if he wanted to split a dessert, and he insisted they each order a different one and share both. The smile she answered with shot straight to his core and he had to force himself to get up and order said sweets in order to keep himself from launching across the table and kissing her breathless. He spent the handful of minutes in line waiting his turn trying to make sense of the jumbled mass of feelings and instincts and very vivid thoughts that had taken up residence in his brain. He wasn’t normally prone to spontaneous acts, nor was he someone who _followed his heart_ or succumbed to warm fuzzies or any such nonsense, and he definitely felt out of his element at the moment.

Once dessert had been enjoyed, his voice activated without his brain’s permission and he asked if she’d like to go get a drink. Her eyes went wide before an impish smile crossed her face and she gestured to the multiple coffee mugs and water glasses on the table between them.

“I was thinking something a little stronger,” he huffed and rolled his eyes, but a teasing smirk escaped and she responded with the most delightful giggle and nod of her head. He couldn’t believe she agreed to spend more time with him and started to wonder if he’d entered an alternate dimension. In what universe did the Gryffindor Princess desire the company of a disgraced Death Eater? Oh, sure, they were civil nowadays, even friendly, if you could believe it. Not too long after the war, their paths started crossing rather frequently, both in work and social situations. The awkward but necessary conversations had taken place; he’d apologized profusely and she’d accepted graciously and that was that. From then on they’d treated each other as they would any other friend or acquaintance, but this was the first time he’d ever been alone with her for longer than a ride on the lift.

Their easy camaraderie continued as they settled into a small booth in the back corner of a familiar pub, and over multiple drinks, a basket of fish and chips, and a bowl of cobbler, they spent the next several hours quite happily. She was by far the best conversationalist he’d ever engaged, not to mention the prettiest, and he knew he was in serious trouble when she innocently placed her hand on his arm while laughing at some snide remark he’d made, and it sent sparks throughout his entire body. He spent the last thirty minutes of their time together trying to come up with at least a moderately plausible excuse to see her again without straight up asking her out and risking rejection. She beat him to the punch, however, in all her brave, scarlet and gold glory.

“I’ve really had a good time tonight,” she commented as she shrugged her jacket on, “Do you think... I mean to say...” she huffed and looked at him with defiant confidence, “Would you like to do this again sometime, Draco?” The sound of his given name rolling off her tongue was enough to make him agree to just about anything she asked, but he kept himself in check and simply flashed his trademark smirk at her.

“Can’t get enough of me, hmmm?”

She rolled her eyes, but stayed rooted to the spot, clearly waiting for an answer. Throwing caution to the wind, he stepped closer and leaned down, lowering his voice slightly, “I would like that very much, Hermione.”

He saw her eyes widen and her cheeks tinge pink, and was pretty sure a small shiver ran through her, so he high-fived himself in his head, hoping that this meant he wasn’t alone in his sudden fascination. She recovered quickly and beamed up at him, making him once again marvel at the dream-like turn the whole afternoon and evening had taken. He wanted very much to kiss her, but was afraid that would be too much; that it would shatter the blissful fog that had surrounded him since their first cup of coffee had been poured hours earlier.

So, instead, he placed a gentle hand on her back and escorted her out the door of the still-crowded pub and into the chilly, early spring night. They chatted about upcoming events, including Neville and Hannah’s wedding, which they would both be attending, and once again Draco found himself acting in a way most unlike his reserved and calculating self.

“We should just go together,” he blurted out as they reached the local apparition point.

Her surprised expression made his stomach drop, but before he could decide if either disapparating on the spot or saying he was only joking would be the better option, her eyes lit up and a radiant smile bloomed across her face.

“I’d love to,” she replied. “Let me know when and where you want to meet up closer to then, alright?” She’d clasped her hands in front of her and looked for all the world like someone had just gifted her something marvelous. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to let out a whoop of victory. He really wanted to kiss her. He wanted to turn to the handful of people milling about the sidewalk and ask if they’d heard her acceptance of his invitation. _He desperately wanted to kiss her._

Unable to control the impulse any longer, he stepped closer and placed a hand gently on her upper arm. Bending down, he settled for pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her cheek and whispered, “Alright.”

When he straightened back up, he was amused to find her eyes wide and cheeks flushed, clearly not expected the gesture but also not displeased by it. He flashed a crooked grin and asked if she needed any help getting home, to which she shook her head and fixed him with a pensive look before thanking him for a lovely evening and spinning away into nothingness.

The Longbottom’s wedding had been their first public outing, and though they hadn’t discussed anything regarding what they’d say to people who asked (expectedly) if they were now a couple, the preparation would have been for naught. Their friends all smiled and acted like it was no big surprise, and anyone who was caught off guard by their appearance together had the decency to keep their opinions to themselves. They spent a lovely evening mingling with the other guests, celebrating the happy couple, and dancing to every slow song the band played (and a few faster ones, too). From that point on, it seemed they were in unspoken agreement about their relationship, and sank effortlessly into a comfortable routine of workday lunches, regular dinners at each other’s flats, and weekends spent however they pleased.

This was the first major holiday they’d be spending together, and though he had already met the Grangers and spent multiple Sundays at their table for brunch, and Hermione had been formally introduced to Narcissa over tea in the rose garden, he felt like this was still a big deal. Holidays were all about family and traditions and sharing bits of oneself normally not on display the rest of the year. He knew Hermione absolutely adored the season and all it entailed, and he simply wanted to make it special for her, though he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. She wasn’t impressed with expensive trinkets or flashy jewels; didn’t care about brand names or price tags or how old a bottle of wine was. For her, it was the thought and effort that went into a gift that mattered most, and he witnessed her put those words into action for hours on end as they traipsed from store to store, checking items off her list.

Once they returned to her flat, she insisted it was time to wrap everything (the Muggle way, of course), and in no time at all her small living room was littered with paper, tissue, ribbons, bows, tape, gift tags, boxes, and bags. Regardless of the fact that Draco had been with her when she purchased every single thing, she reiterated who it was for and why she’d chosen it, as she set about arranging it in a way that met her gift-wrapping standards. If it had been anyone else, he would have lost interest and/or patience within the first half-hour, but he could listen to her endlessly and never tire of it. The way her eyes danced and her nose crinkled when she was amused; the loving tone she used when speaking of those closest to her; the excitement that practically had her bouncing in her seat as she considered how the recipient of her present would react; he was utterly enamored with all of it and completely at a loss for how to tell her.

For as loquacious as the Malfoy heir could be when circumstances required, or how quick-witted his retort to any number of remarks or challenges, he had no idea how to put his overwhelming feelings for the adorable witch sitting next to him into words. He truly felt it would be easier to remove his heart from his chest and simply hand it over to her to do with as she saw fit, than to verbalize his innermost thoughts and desires. He wasn’t exactly afraid of rejection; he knew her well enough by now to know that even if she wasn’t quite at the besotted level of mind-melting infatuation he was, she’d never be cruel about it. He was positive she liked him… more than liked him if the way she responded every time he kissed her was any indication… but did she love him? Did she feel like half of her soul was missing whenever he left the room? Did she spend an inordinate amount of time wondering what he was doing, or when she’d see him next, or envisioning a future with him?

He was pulled from his musings by a gentle tap on his knee. He’d been sitting there, amongst the gift wrap explosion, randomly spinning a small, red, stick-on bow in his fingers, while staring at it without actually seeing anything. He looked up to find his favorite pair of chocolate brown eyes staring at him with warmth and affection and the tiniest glint of mirth.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Hermione blurted out and pushed a small package into his hands. The box easily fit in his palm, and was wrapped with shiny red paper printed with candy canes and holly wreaths.

“What’s this?” he asked, confused. He hadn’t seen her purchase anything he’d even remotely consider a gift for himself that day, and held it up, shaking it slightly to hear something rattling around inside.

“It’s not actually a real present. At least, not one that I bought. You’ll get those on Christmas,” she admitted, nibbling on her lower lip, which was sure sign she was nervous.

“Are you re-gifting me one of those horrid biscuits I tried to make?” he teased, recalling his completely abysmal attempt at Muggle baking several weeks before.

Hermione sniggered and shook her head, “No, I gave the whole batch to Harry to try out as a new form of weapon for the Auror Department. Give someone a concussion if you hit them, those will.”

She dissolved into a full-blown fit of laughter as he lunged for her, tickling her sides and peppering kisses up her neck and jawline, the box forgotten on the floor for the moment.

“You think you’re so funny, you cheeky witch,” he rumbled as she shrieked and tried to scramble away, but he was bigger and stronger and quicker, and in mere seconds had her seated in his lap, caged by his arms as he grabbed the present up and held it in front of her. “Can I open it now?”

“Yes,” she breathed, still gasping from their little tussle, but the blush on her cheeks wasn’t from exertion and the way she looked down at her hands as she fidgeted with her fingers gave away how nervous she actually was.

Carefully, he plucked the taped edged up and removed all the paper from the cardboard container. He opened the lid and found the inside stuffed with green tissue. Glancing down, he saw her eyes were now fixed on the gift as he peeled back the paper barrier to reveal something metal that glinted in the light of the Christmas tree. He reached in and pulled out a shiny silver key on a shiny silver ring that had a leather circle hanging from it, embossed with what looked like a series of dots with thin lines connecting them. He looked closer and realized what it was.

“That’s the Draco constellation,” he marveled, fully appreciating the intricate craftsmanship of the small item. “But what’s this for?” he held it up in front of her so the key was dangling at eye level.

“It’s a key to here… to my flat,” she said softly and he thought his heart might have stopped beating. “We’re here for dinner several nights a week, and most of the time on weekends, and I just thought… if you wanted to be able to come here, even if I wasn’t… and I know we can apparate, but it’s more… symbolic… than anything else, I guess…” her words trailed off and she was chewing on her lip again, still not meeting his gaze.

His heart had gone from utterly still to pounding a throbbing rhythm that was roaring in his ears as he registered her meaning. He knew his jaw had dropped open and his eyes were wide and incredulous, and he couldn’t have strung a coherent sentence together if his life depended on it, so instead he shifted to the side and cradled her face between his hands, giving her no choice but to look at him. Staring at her intently for a beat or two, hoping she could read the awe and wonder and total adoration displayed in his features, he leaned in and kissed her with an ardor that took both their breaths away.

After several long, blissful seconds, they pulled apart and grinned at one another with unrestrained joy.

“So, it’s okay? That I gave you that?” she asked hesitantly, “I’m not saying you have to move all your stuff over, or be here every minute of every day, nothing like that. No expectations or anything. I just… just wanted you to know that I like having you here… I want you to feel welcome anytime.” She was getting bashful again and his heart was almost unable to take anymore of her sweetness. Wrapping her fully in his embrace, he buried his face in her curls and mumbled a very ineloquent _thank you._

It seemed to be enough, because in the next minute she was back to curling ribbons and fluffing tissue and writing names on tags, chattering a mile a minute about her favorite Christmas memories, and he was blissfully lost in it all. He slipped the key into his pocket, where the weight of it pressing against his leg was like a tiny anchor; something to keep him tethered to this incredible reality in which Hermione enjoyed having him around – trusted him enough to give him a key to her home – wanted him to further insert himself into her life. He was quite certain it was the best gift he’d ever received in his life, and now, more than ever, he was at a loss for how to express his thoughts to her.

Once the myriad of presents had been sufficiently decorated, tagged, and sorted according to when and where they would be given, they settled into the squashy cushions of her oversized sofa and turned on yet another Christmas movie. Hermione had been insistent on showing him her favorites, and he’d already been exposed to one about a flying reindeer, another that focused on a little girl’s belief in Santa Claus, and a third that rather improbably chronicled a young boy’s time at home while the rest of his family was in another country during the holidays. They’d all been highly amusing, if not slightly baffling to him, and he was quite certain the one she’d just put on that centered around a green, furry character who was grumpier than Snape, would be equally entertaining.

About halfway through the film, Draco realized she had fallen asleep. The two of them were sprawled across her couch, and she was tucked between him and the back cushions, one leg flung across his, her hand resting on his chest, just below where her cheek lay. For at least the tenth time that day, his heart swelled with love for the curly-haired witch, and he allowed himself to fully succumb to the warm, comforting feeling being with her this way triggered. He wasn’t used to this – to being totally at ease – even when he was alone. His upbringing had been obscenely privileged and gratuitous, but it had never afforded him peace or stability, never gave him the sense of contentment being with Hermione did.

He heard the hairy, lime monstrosity on the screen utter the words, “Help me... I’m feeling!” and had to hold back a snort of self-derision. Wasn’t that exactly how he perceived his current situation? He was entirely suffocated by the longing and admiration, the gratitude and respect, the unequivocal regard he had for her, and it both terrified and elated him in equal measure. He loved her; a thought that even a few months ago would have sent him screaming for the hills; and he wanted her to know. He ran his fingers gently through her curls and covered her hand with his own as he listened to her even breathing and revelled in the feel of her snuggled up against him.

The grenk… grutch… grint? On the screen was struggling with his complicated emotions, and Draco felt a twinge of commiserating understanding. If the Muggles could make an entire movie about a character who’d never said a nice word to anyone, but suddenly turned his whole life around with the magic of Christmas, then surely he, Draco Malfoy, could figure it out.

“I’m… I’m not very good at this sort of thing,” he murmured softly, still playing with her hair and rubbing small circles on her hand with his thumb, “but I’m trying. I can’t tell you how much your gift means to me; that you’ve completely opened your heart and home to me. That’s… that’s amazing. _You_ are amazing, Hermione. You are the very best part of my life and even though I have no idea what made you give me a chance, I’ll be forever grateful for it. For _you_.”

He pressed a light kiss to the top of her head as he pondered his next words, “You’ve given me hope and made me see that there is so much more out there than I ever imagined, and I want to experience all of it… with you. I know we’ve not been together long, but… but I’m pretty sure this is it for me. _You’re_ it for me. I love you. I know that sounds mental, but I’ve never been more sure of anything before, and I just… I needed to tell you. I know you’re not hearing this right now, but I figured I could practice before I say it for real.” A low chortle rumbled in his chest and he felt her shift slightly in his arms, “I hope you won’t think I’m daft when I finally pluck up the courage to do it. And I hope you know how wonderful and brilliant and beautiful I think you are. I promise I’ll do better at telling you, just in case you don’t.”

He paused for a beat, an unexpected tightness in his throat and a stinging in his eyes as he considered all the things he appreciated about her, “I don’t need any other presents this Christmas.” His voice was now a croaky whisper, “You have already given me more than I could ever want, more than I will ever need or deserve. _You_ are all that I want.” He wrapped his arms around her completely then, fully engulfing her as he blinked furiously to clear away his unshed tears and struggled to get himself in check. He’d done it. He’d laid his heart bare for her… well, sort of… but it hadn’t been nearly as traumatic as he’d expected. Technically, he’d have to do it when she was awake in order for it to count, but he felt lighter and more confident in his newfound determination to be more open and forthcoming.

As he focused his attention back on the screen and the village of odd looking people now singing about the real meaning of the holiday, he didn’t notice the small smile tugging at the corner of Hermione’s mouth or the contented sigh that escaped her as she nestled further into his hold.

She’d heard him. She knew. And her own Christmas wish had been granted, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of fluff and nonsense for the holidays :) Though I've portrayed Draco in a handful of different ways throughout my fics, the most constant characteristic of him (for me) is that he isn't used to/isn't comfortable with sharing his thoughts and feelings freely. Chalk that up to his rigid, Pureblood upbringing, or the fact that he lived in abject terror for several of his most formative years, but I think telling Hermione he loves her would be a big deal for him. So there you have it.  
> Thank you so much for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! Wishing everyone a very safe, happy, and healthy holiday season! <3  
> "Maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store... Maybe Christmas means a little bit more."


End file.
